


Visual Stimulus

by loversandantiheroes



Series: Case History [5]
Category: Stardew Valley (Video Game)
Genre: Back to the Smut, Come Eating, Cunnilingus, F/M, Light Dom/sub, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Voyeurism, and the very lightest of foreshadowing, mentions of Ass play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-27
Updated: 2019-07-27
Packaged: 2020-07-20 14:01:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19993399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loversandantiheroes/pseuds/loversandantiheroes
Summary: Things quiet down in the Valley once again.  And you're still after a second demonstration.





	Visual Stimulus

The next day is surprisingly peaceful. It's a bit of shock, really. You’re not prepared for peaceful, not the way the month has run to date. As soon as you wake you find yourself grabbing for your phone on impulse, half-expecting to find missed calls or texts to tell you of some new disaster.

Instead, all that’s waiting for you is a handful of spam emails and a text from Harvey that simply says: _good morning sweetheart x_

You blow a little sigh of relief into your pillow, the preemptive knot that was forming in your back releasing tentatively.

With Shane temporarily out of commission, you manage to rope Alex and Abigail into helping out a bit. It takes a bit of coaxing to get them out on such short notice, but after a bit of bribery (two cartons of eggs for Alex and permission to run amok in the blackberry patch for Abigail) they make their way out to the farm. Alex helps out with the livestock while Abigail quite happily shuffles on hands and knees through the pumpkin patch snipping stems on the ripe ones so they can be brought in to cure, which leaves you to handle the bee hives and give them their last once-over. It’s not long to the first frost, and you want to be sure your little friends are good and healthy before they bed down for winter.

Shane sends you texts through the morning, a little miserable and absolutely bored out of his skull on bed rest. You send him a few pictures, managing to catch a surprisingly good snap of the goat taking a healthy nip at Alex’s behind as punishment for ignoring her, which seems to cheer him up a bit.

It’s barely 11 o’clock when you pack up into the truck and head to town, your helpers crowded into the seat beside you with their laps full of eggs and blackberries. Abigail chatters excitedly the whole time about the upcoming festival, only ever pausing to pop a blackberry into her mouth with fingers that are rapidly turning reddish-purple.

Harvey’s manning the clinic alone when you arrive, hunched over a stack of medical journals at the front desk. There’s a hobnail glass vase full of fairy roses perched on the corner of the desk. Only eleven. The twelfth, one of the deep burgundy ones, has been hung up in one corner of Harvey’s apartment to dry as a keepsake.

“Hey,” he says, pushing the magazines away as you lean over the counter for a kiss. “I didn’t expect you so early.”

“Three sets of hands tends to make the work go much quicker.”

“Oh? Maru and Emily?”

You shake your head. “Alex and Abigail. I let them have first choice of the pumpkin harvest, plus a little extra for pulling them out on short notice. Please try to explain the concept of a vegetable to Alex at some point, by the way, otherwise I'm afraid he might actually turn into a chicken. Oh, by the way, I _will_ be swarmed the start of next week, so if I drop off the face of the earth suddenly, you know what happened. That busted sprinkler threw every damn thing off. Harvest is far too close to Spirit’s Eve for my taste.”

Harvey pulls a face, grumbling. “Don’t remind me,” he mutters. “That’s a festival that’s bound and determined to give me an ulcer.”

“Poor thing,” you say, stroking his cheek. “I suppose it won’t do much good to invite you to Emily’s with me on Friday? She’s apparently throwing a horror movie fest.”

He grimaces comically, shaking his head. “I think I’ll pass on that, but thank you for thinking of me.”

“Will you come to the festival with me at least?” You snatch up his hand, pressing your lips to his knuckles. “I promise I will keep you safe from all spooks, goblins, and ghoulies.”

“I have to be there, actually, like it or not.” He looks none too pleased about it, but he gives your hand a squeeze, expression softening just a touch as he looks up at you. “But it would be a much more tolerable evening if you were there with me.”

“Is it really so bad?”

He sighs, leaning heavily on his elbows. “There’s a maze every year in front of the community center. It’s...odd. That’s the kindest I can put it. Every time I ask who sets it up, I just get told ‘The Wizard did it,’ and I’m left feeling like a bit of a putz.”

“Wait, wait, there’s a wizard?”

Harvey shrugs in the most exasperated gesture of _I guess so_ that you’ve ever seen. “I’ve never really met him. I’ve only ever seen him once or twice. He’s...unusual _._ Tall, bit older. Bright purple hair.”

“Black cowboy hat?” you ask. There’s certainly a few more adventurous hair colors in the Valley than you would’ve expected from such a small town, but even accounting for that, some folks just stand out.

Harvey nods. “That’s the one. He does the maze. And Marlon, the uh, vaguely Odinic gent that runs that Adventurer’s Guild, he brings in these...things. In cages. Skeletons, most times. Swears he finds them down in the mines.”

You pull a bit of a face. “That’s a little morbid, hauling remains out of mine shafts for holiday decor.”

“No, you don’t understand. They're _w_ _alking_ skeletons. I mean, it’s a trick, of course! It has to be. But all the same it’s just a bit _wrong_. Hurts my head to look at. And Marlon always insists they’re dangerous and I should be nearby ‘in case worse comes to worst’ and someone is attacked.”

“Probably just playing it up for the occasion,” you say, but you’re not sure he’s convinced. Neither are you, to be honest.

“You’ve never been down there, have you?” Harvey asks suddenly, frowning rather spectacularly.

“What, the mine?”

He nods.

“Yoba, _no._ I might be garden-variety dumb on occasion, but I’m not full-goose bozo. If I need metal for crafting I buy from Clint.”

 _“Good,”_ he says, squeezing your hand with a sudden fierceness that takes you by surprise. He stands, making briskly for the door and snapping the lock shut. “Now,” he says, flipping the _open_ sign around to _closed_ , “I don’t know about you, but I could use a coffee.”

⁂

“I can’t believe how quiet it is,” you tell him over the rim of your cup.

“Mm,” Harvey nods a little, setting down his own mug. “Given the way the past few weeks have gone, I thought you might be relieved.”

You give a little chuckle. “Too soon to be relieved just yet. This is just the part where I sit and hope the universe has run out of shoes to drop for the time being.”

“Now you’re starting to sound like me,” Harvey says.

“Always knew you were a bad influence,” you say with a grin.

“I am at that,” he nods, checking his watch.

“Got a hot date?” you ask, teasing.

“I do, as a matter of fact,” Harvey replies, eyebrows raising. He lays a hand on your knee. “I have a girlfriend these days.”

“Do you now?” You lean forward, grasping his tie and pulling him closer. “Lucky lady.”

There’s a smile on his face as he kisses you, teeth bumping against your lip, and you can’t help but giggle.

“We’ve got another forty-five minutes until lunch is over,” he says, hands sliding further up your thighs. “If you can think of anything you’d like to do to pass the time.”

“I can think of _many_ things,” you assure him. “I’m starting to wonder if you ever eat lunch during lunch.”

Harvey colors a little, ducking his head.

“You _do_ still eat lunch, I hope?”

“Usually,” he mutters, scratching at his nose.

_“Harvey.”_

“You’re one to talk,” he sputters, laughing nervously. 

You tut softly at him, tugging at his tie. “Alright, you. This is what you’re going to do today. You’re going to write me up a list of foods that you like, and then just to be safe you’re going to write a list of foods you _don’t_ like. And I’m going to make sure we both get lunch. Because we are apparently both walking disasters who tend to forget what meals are and it’s going to become very difficult to keep up a rigorous schedule of work _and_ boning each other’s brains out if we don’t eat.”

Harvey pouts a little. “That’s going to cut into our time.”

“Well then, either we’ll have to somehow restrain ourselves until you’re off work, or we’ll just have to eat quickly. Now. Have you got any appointments this afternoon?”

He shakes his head. “No, not today.”

“Good.” His tie is still in your grip, and you loop it around your hand, a lovely idea occurring to you. Harvey’s eyes go a little wide as you tug at the makeshift lead. “Up.”

He stands, reaching out for you, but you step back. “Ah-ah. Hands down until I say. Someone ought to teach you a thing or two about restraint.”

Harvey blinks for a moment, a mix of puzzled excitement on his face. Nodding, he lowers his hands to his sides. “Yes ma’am,” he says. He’s teasing, at least a little, the ghost of a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. But his breathing is coming just a little bit faster now, that brief spark of confusion shifting to something more akin to anticipation.

“Good boy,” you coo, and all the air leaves him in a rush that might be laughter, but isn't. Another reaction filed away for later. Smiling wickedly, you walk backwards out of the kitchen and tug him along to follow. “Now. I believe you still owe me another demonstration.”

He swallows, stumbling a little. “You want me to- _now?”_

“Now.” You steer him to the edge of his bed, unwinding the tie from your hand.

Harvey sways a little on his feet as you step away, dragging the desk chair over to the bedside and settling into it. He fidgets, suddenly lost, tugging at the cuffs of his jacket as if uncertain how to start.

"Tell me," he says, faint and hesitant.

"What?"

His eyes settle on you, _fix_ on you, that same tremulous sense of anticipation in them. "Tell me what to do. Please."

"Will that help?"

"Yes."

You tilt your head a little, intrigued by the faint edge of excitement in his voice, and decide to push. Just a bit.

"Do you enjoy being told what to do?" you ask.

Something in your tone strikes him like a tuning fork and he straightens, stiffens. You can see his pupils dilate from here. "Yes," he says.

Slowly you nod, tongue darting out across your lower lip. “Alright then. Take off your jacket first.”

He shrugs it off, seeming to steady a little as he folds it and drapes it gently over the footboard of the bed. It’s a sweet counterpoint to his authoritative streak, this obedience, and he settles into it with a familiar ease. Dom by appointment, perhaps, but a sub at heart.

“Tie.”

There’s a soft whisper of cloth as he pulls it free, unknotting it and laying it aside.

“Shirt.”

His hands are steady enough as he unbuttons his shirt - white with faint grey pinstripes - and pulls it off. He’s wearing a plain white undershirt beneath it, and he tugs once at the fabric before he stops himself.

“Very good. Keep going.”

Biting his lip, he pulls his undershirt up and over his head, mussing his hair and nearly pulling off his glasses by accident. He shifts from foot to foot, clasping his hands and waiting for the next instruction.

“Belt,” you tell him, eyes dropping down to follow his hands. _“Slowly.”_

His movements slow immediately, unbuckling his belt and pulling it free with careful deliberation. There is a pronounced bulge in his trousers now, and you cannot help but stare. A hot flush creeps up your face as you catch Harvey’s eye. He stares down at you, breath light and quick, a sort of eagerness in his face you haven’t quite seen before.

“Good boy,” you say, voice faltering just a little bit. The rising bulge of his cock gives a faint twitch as you say that, and for a second you lose the plot and just stare. “Shoes off. Then I want you to stop for a minute.”

He does as instructed, bending to untie his laces and set his work shoes aside before clasping his hands again in front of his stomach.

“Come here and give me your hand.”

He does so, a light frown creasing his brow. You clasp his hand and turn it, placing it palm down just above your left breast. Underneath his fingers your heart pounds like a jackhammer.

“I _am_ enjoying this," you tell him softly. "I love looking at you, Harvey. More than you know. But if this makes you uncomfortable at all, you can say no. You can say no even if you’re not uncomfortable. We can stop anytime. I won’t be upset. Okay?”

Harvey nods, drawing in an unsteady breath.

“Is this okay?”

“Yes.”

“I want you to make yourself come for me. Is that okay?”

His fingers twitch against your chest, and you swear you see the front of his slacks grow just a bit tighter.

“Yes,” he says hoarsely.

You lift his hand, pressing it to your lips. “Let me see you, sweet thing.”

Harvey steps back, hands moving to his fly. He’s no showboater, and that’s hardly a surprise, but there’s that intensity in his face again, that bound up sense of anxiety and excitement that always seems to radiate from him the second he’s even an inch out of his comfort zone. He shuffles out of his pants, revealing a more than appreciable tent in his dark green boxer shorts, and then those are gone, too. He stands finally, fully stripped, trying to figure out what to do with his hands.

And you look. You make a _point_ of looking, of letting your eyes wander appreciably over him. He’s trying and failing to not cover himself, to not suck in his stomach, to not tighten muscles in the hopes of making him look more fit and defined.

He is so damned _big._ Broad across the chest. Straight-hipped. His legs are long, thighs frankly _distractingly_ thick. He’s no marathon runner, but he’s clearly spent enough years using his bicycle to get around that he’s built up a decent bit of muscle under all his softness.

“Lovely,” you mutter encouragingly, letting your eyes trail down. “I mean it, Harvey. You look good enough to eat. Every bit of you.”

He’s not fully hard, but well on his way, cock semi-erect and mouth-wateringly thick. It twitches a little as you watch, and you can’t help but bite your lip. He is _very_ responsive to your gaze.

“Now. Show me what you do when I’m not around.”

He cups himself, tugging gently. “S-should I- do you want me to sit or-?”

“Whatever's comfortable. How do you usually do this?”

His hand still moves, as if on its own, squeezing and tugging until his cock juts out straight and hard. A bright, high flush has started up his cheeks and across his chest that nearly matches the shade of reddened pink that colors the head of his cock.

“That, um. That sort of depends. Standing if I’m in the shower. Lying down in bed or on the couch.”

You tip your chin up towards his bed. “Lie down, then.”

“C-can I, um…” He motions at the nightstand as he sits. You give him a little nod and he pulls a small bottle of what appears to be massage oil from inside the top drawer. 

You bite at the insides of your cheeks, trying to stop your smile from turning to a full-fledged grin. “Somehow I figured you for the oil type.”

He clears his throat, shrugging a little as he pours a bit into his open palm. “Occasionally I like to take my time. Oil is a little better in the long run. Literally.”

He keeps his eyes on you as he slicks himself up. In anyone else you might call it a challenge, but not here. Not with him. He’s watching you just as much as you’re watching him. Looking for approval. And more than that, you think, for a sign of your own enjoyment.

And you _are_ enjoying it. You feel almost as flushed as Harvey looks, so warm it’s making you dizzy. A tingling heat is beginning to build low in your belly and between your legs, begging for your attention.

You shift the chair as he settles back, moving closer to the bottom of the bed. The view from here is _lovely_ , and it’s easier to let your eyes trail from his hands to his face. Your fingers brush against his knee.

“Wider.”

The flush on his face deepens. “Fascination,” he mutters, but spreads his legs apart just a bit wider.

“Objections?”

“No,” he breathes. There’s a slick, sliding sound as he begins to stroke himself in earnest, and you catch yourself holding your breath, more than a little enraptured. It’s a lovely sight, to be sure. Those long fingers of his squeezing and circling the oiled length of his cock and slipping down to cup the fullness of his balls. He does this more than once, a long, teasing stroke from the head all the way down past his balls to the flat stretch of skin behind them, fingers near but not quite grazing his ass.

“Any experience there?” you ask, eyes following the motion of his hands down to his exposed cleft. You remember running your hands over the wonderful curve of it in the shower just a few days ago, and the excited twitch his cock had given as you’d run your fingers down the crack of his ass.

Harvey nods, breathing a little harder now.

“And?”

He rolls his fist over the head of his cock and lets out a faint whimper. “I-I don’t-”

You run your fingers lightly up the inside of his leg, stopping only a few inches past his knee. “Did you enjoy it?”

He jerks a little and trails his hand down again, groaning softly.

“That _sounds_ like a yes.”

He nods, stroking faster. “Y-yes.”

 _Wonderful_. You lean forward, just a little, stroking softly at his thigh. “I’ve thought about that, you know. Bending you over your desk and playing with your ass until you make a mess of all that precious paperwork.”

Harvey swears, shuddering hard. The look he gives you is wild and startled, eyes dark, and his stroke never slows.

“Of course,” you continue, trying to ignore the insistent heat rapidly building between your legs, “there’s all that oil sitting right over there. I could just slick my fingers up and slide right on into you.”

“Yes,” Harvey gasps, gripping the base of his cock so hard his knuckles turn white. His legs widen with a jerk that might be all reflex. “Oh sweetheart yes, _please.”_

And oh that _is_ something. A wicked rush of heat that pings every nerve in your body. It almost pains you to pull your hand away. “Not yet.”

Harvey whines, a needy and petulant sound that devolves into helpless laughter. “That’s not _fair,”_ he pouts. “Teasing an old man.”

“Hardly old, sweet thing,” you say, grinning. “Besides, I have to leave you something to look forward to this weekend, don’t I? Then I can take you apart just as slow as I please without having to worry about appointments and business hours and all those pesky little things.”

“Promise?” he pants. His cock bobs in his grip, pulsing along with his heartbeat.

You lay your hand over your heart. “I promise.”

Harvey’s head lolls back with a groan, hand in motion again, stroking and squeezing slowly. His flush deepens, spreading down the pale skin on his chest.

“I can’t believe you’ve thought about that,” he mutters.

You squeeze your legs together just a bit. It's hard to focus, hard to maintain any sort of bravado as he works himself in front of you. But it's having a clear effect on him - and a rather lovely one at that - and you fight to keep your hands unoccupied. “I’ve thought about a _lot_ of things where you’re involved. I’m guessing you do, too.”

“Oh yes,” he says, and he might be laughing again. The rhythm of his breathing has reached the same sort of choppy cadence and it’s almost hard to tell.

“What do you think about?”

“I’d think that’d - _uh_ \- b-be obvious,” he says, panting.

“Flattery will get you everywhere, sweet thing,” you tell him. You’re beyond flattered. Elated is more like it. Your head is positively spinning. “Tell me about the first time you touched yourself and thought of me.”

“April. After the dance,” he says, hips beginning to lift off the bed and up into his hand. “The-the Flower Dance. The dress you wore. I couldn’t get you out of my head. I-I kept thinking about you leading me off into the trees. And what - _oh_ \- what you’d feel like underneath. What you’d taste like.”

His eyes keep slipping closed, losing himself to sensation and the remembered fantasy. When they flutter open again they lock onto you, gazing up with a shocked sort of reverence.

“I never would’ve thought-” a groan cuts off the words, and that wet smacking sound comes a little louder as he spills rush of pre-come. He fights to catch his breath, and when he speaks next his voice is low and ragged. “You taste so much better than I imagined.”

The last hold you had on yourself disintegrates, and you stand, popping open the fly of your jeans and slipping your hand inside for the briefest moment. You are utterly soaked, and Harvey’s eyes go wide as you push your slickened fingers into his mouth.

“Taste,” you tell him.

And with an obedience that sends a shiver up your back, Harvey sucks dutifully on your fingers. The near frantic rhythm of his hand falters and stills as he moans, a desperate bid to keep control.

“That’s so good,” he pants as pull your hand back. “I'm close, sweetheart. I’m s-so close.”

You lean over him, bracing your hands against the bed, and kiss him tenderly. “Don’t stop,” you whisper. “I want to see. I want to see you come all over yourself. I want to see just how hard you can come.”

“I-I-I-” The rest of the words won’t form.

“Don’t worry,” you say, nuzzling against his cheek before settling down on the bed between his knees. “I promise I’ll clean up every drop.”

_“Fuck.”_

The last bit of his control breaks. The hand on his cock speeds up to a near brutal pace, his free hand grasping at his balls, tugging and twisting. For a moment he grows even harder, so rigid he might’ve been cast in iron. You watch his balls draw up, and the long ridge at the base of his cock pulses intensely as he spends himself all over his own chest. One shot goes so high that it splashes against the soft skin of his neck and you find yourself staring at the spot, fascinated.

Harvey finds his voice with a gasping, shuddering groan. Five pulses. Six. His voice breaks, pitching higher. He’s still coming, thrusting up helplessly into his own hand, long stripes of pearly white covering his chest from shoulder to stomach. 

“Oh Harvey,” you croon. “Oh sweet thing, _look at you._ ”

Seven. Eight. He jackknifes on the ninth pulse, shuddering under your hands. 

_“Fuh-fuck_ , I - I’m still - _oh!”_

There’s nothing left in him, but you watch five more sharp spasms hit him before he’s fully spent and panting.

“Absolutely gorgeous,” you mutter, leaning over him to lick away the splash at his neck.

He groans, shivering as your tongue traces over the glistening lines that criss-cross his upper body and down to gently mouth his desperately sensitive cock. 

“That...t-that,” he pants between ragged gasps. “That was, that was a lot.”

“That was more than a lot,” you tell him, stretching across his chest for a kiss. “That was the sweetest thing I’ve ever seen.”

He laughs hoarsely into your mouth, but does not shy away from the bitter mineral taste on your tongue. “Yoba help me. You are so much more than I bargained for.”

“Didn’t your mother ever tell you not to make seedy deals in tavern storerooms?”

“I think I must’ve missed that talk.” He glances up past you towards the clock. “We’re almost out of time,” he says, a little sadly.

“Hm. That’s alright.” You place a kiss on the end of his nose. “You need to eat.”

You mean it innocently enough, intending to tell him that you’re perfectly fine taking care of yourself when you get home. 

You don’t get the chance.

Harvey lets out the dirtiest laugh you’ve ever heard, burying his face against your neck. Goosebumps ripple across the skin under his mouth. His teeth nip at your neck and you give a little squeal he sits up suddenly, tipping over so that you’re on your back, pressed into the quilt beneath him.

“That,” he rumbles into your ear, getting his hands under the waistband of your jeans and peeling them off you, “is a _marvelous_ idea.”

“That’s not quite what I - _oh!”_

With no preamble whatsoever, he yanks the gusset of your panties aside and covers the wet and swollen seam of your cunt with his mouth, spreading you open as he pushes deeper and harder with his tongue. There is no gentleness, no restraint, no coaxing. Just a greedy, voracious hunger, as if making him focus solely on his own pleasure has left him utterly ravenous for yours. He moans almost as loudly now, face buried between your legs, as he did at the attentions of his own hand.

You squirm under the attention, so keyed up after Harvey's performance that you're nearly ready to pop straight out of the gate. Harvey holds you fast, one hand pinning down your thigh and the other squeezing your breast in a grip that’s just shy of painful. You grind your hips up against his mouth, shuddering at the reckless assault of his tongue and the sharp scrape of his teeth.

“You are so wet,” you hear him murmur before his lips fasten around your clit and you nearly shriek, bucking so hard at the unexpected force of your orgasm that you almost unseat him.

You’re nearly coming down, ears ringing and limbs tingling when he plunges two fingers into you, swift and deep, grasping and squeezing as his tongue circles over your hard and swollen clit.

Immediately, you come again, back arching and legs trembling. And this time, you _do_ shriek.

Harvey kisses his way up to your mouth as you lie shaking and you grapple for him, pulling him close, utterly grateful for his warmth and comforting bulk.

“I think half the Valley probably heard that,” he says, flushed and grinning like the cat that got the cream.

One last, long shudder ripples through you and you tug at his hair, gasping. “Oh m-my- _fuck.”_

He giggles - actually giggles - and lays a kiss on your collarbone. 

_“Food,”_ you say breathlessly, falling to laughter. “I meant _food.”_

He only laughs harder. “You're far more appetizing.”

You swear, giggling, too punch-drunk to even think of a response.

“We should probably talk a bit,” he says after a few minutes, nuzzling you affectionately. “If you’re serious about wanting to try things.”

“Mm. I am. I take it I just tripped over a couple of yours?”

“Oh good," he says brightly, "I was wondering if you'd noticed.”

You shake your head, combing his hair back with your fingers. “I’ve never seen you this giddy.”

“Endorphins are a wonderful thing.” He raises his head to look at you. He’s grinning, big and sweet and open. “So are you.”

Somewhere in the kitchen, Harvey’s phone begins to chime.

He lets out a little _hmph_ , holding you a bit tighter.

“I take it that’s the cue to find pants?”

“Unfortunately.”

“You never did eat.” 

He snorts a little, and you poke him in the ribs. 

“I don’t count,” you insist.

⁂

There’s a rush to clean up and get your clothes pulled on. You don’t leave. You can’t bring yourself to do it, especially on a day this slow. Instead you run across the way to the Stardrop, bringing back a couple sandwiches and a salad for the two of you to share. You sit with him at the front desk, ravenously packing away your lunch and listening to Harvey do his best to explain the current article he’s been pouring over.

It’s well past dark when you finally step out, lingering on Harvey’s doorstep for another kiss...and another, and another. It’s not until you hear Sam cheer, hollering _“GET IT, DOC!”_ from somewhere near the Saloon that you finally part, both of you sputtering and giggling like school kids.

“See you tomorrow,” Harvey says, blushing madly, returned to his usual bashful self.

“Goodnight.”

You make your way home, a list on lined ledger paper folded up in your pocket. Likes. Dislikes. Allergies. You’ve already got a few ideas for lunch tomorrow.

There’s another list in your pocket. That one is _also_ full of likes and dislikes, but of a different variety.

And you most _definitely_ have some ideas about that, too.  


**Author's Note:**

> Just a light smut interlude to soothe everyone's nerves after all the hubbub in the previous fic. And to the tumblr anon that requested "an expansion of the shower time light ass play of yore," all I can say is: be patient, I promise it's on the way.
> 
> **Edited on 7/30/2019. No big drastic changes, but a bit of a spit and polish was needed because goddamn it I have *standards*.


End file.
